A Season of Secrets and Sand
by Randomabiling
Summary: Almost a year after their marriage, Robert and Cora set off on an adventure. Not all of the baggage they take with them can be carried in one's hands. Under the sun of a foreign and exotic land, secrets are kept, maintained and exposed. Accompanied by the Levinsons, who have their own secrets to maintain, how will their holiday mold the rest of their new and fragile marriage?
1. Prologue

Prologue

 _December 1890_

Robert lumbered through the darkened rooms of the first floor, his arms and legs swinging freely like loosened tethers. Carson had already been through to snuff the lamps, and the hollow echo of his footsteps in the distance as he finished the job called out the lateness of the hour. Pulling himself up the stairs, Robert paused on the landing and leaned against the wall, the tapestry covering it tickling his palm. He closed his eyes waiting for the house to stop spinning around him, and he cursed Marmaduke and Shrimpy.

They had urged Robert on, daring him even, one drink after another being placed in front of him, his ability to refuse mystifyingly absent. The card game continued until well after the ladies had gone up. It hadn't been long until the pleasant, fizzy feeling that had begun in his belly had traveled to his head, and still not long after that when the pleasantness became tinged with a sour dizziness. By then it was too late to stop, prudence long forgotten, his hand unsteadily putting his glass to his lips.

Taking another steadying breath, Robert gripped the banister and used it as a crutch, propping his sagging body up the rest of the stairs. He bumped into the walls of the gallery like a billiard ball gone awry until he stood stupidly in front of his dressing room door. Even through his liquor soaked thoughts, Robert knew it was far too late to call his valet for help.

It was Christmas Eve, afterall.

Robert fumbled with the doorknob. It had become an enigma too complex for his muddled senses to figure out. Finally, mercifully, the metallic click of the lock disengaging from its apparatus filled the sleepiness of the gallery. Caught off guard by his sudden success, Robert continued to push his weight against the grain. The door swung away from him, crashing into the wall and Robert stumbled through the doorway after it, only just catching himself from falling to the floor.

Looking around, the blackness of the room clouded his eyes and Robert pulled at the edges of his dinner jacket, though there was no one to see him. Holding his breath, he strained to hear if the commotion had stirred anyone from their beds. Exhaling once it seemed he was still the only one awake, Robert walked further into the room, biting his lip hard when his shin struck the sitting chair by his bed. A slur of curses were whispered into the shadows and Robert hopped over to the wardrobe, fighting with his tie to loosen it.

"Robert?"

Robert froze, fingers clenched around the buttons of his vest, buttons that he had been fighting with for the better part of five minutes. The soft steps of Cora's slipper-clad feet crept closer so that Robert could feel the heat of her presence at his back. He hadn't meant to wake her. That was, in fact, the last thing he had wanted.

"Are you all right, Robert?"

Robert closed his eyes, swaying slightly to the sweet sound of her lowered voice. His eyelids snapped back open, blinking to clear the fog. He should be asking her that very question. When Robert turned around, Cora's face was close enough to feel the gentle puffs of her breath. She watched him curiously, a hint of concern tugging at the corners of her mouth. Robert's thumbs twitched to smooth over the skin there, the lines that formed as her frown deepened.

Teeth feeling numb and cumbersome in his dry mouth, Robert tried to form the words streaming through his mind. Cora hesitated a moment before taking one small step closer, her capable fingers making quick work of the buttons that had only moments before plagued him. Her nearness, the feather light grazes of her fingertips through the stiff cotton of his shirt, the faint hint of her lavender-scented lotion, it all worked together to torment him. Cora's touch reminded him cruelly of how much he missed her body, how much he wished to have her beneath him now, the maddening little noises she usually made teasing against his ear.

Without thinking, Robert stepped forward, leaning into Cora's space, closing the remaining distance between them. The persistent tingling that had surged with her touch was now an uncomfortable strain against his trousers. Robert inhaled, a deep and shaky breath that did little to cool the heat making his skin clammy. The smell of her hair tickling his nose tipped Robert off balance and he braced his weight by laying his hands on her shoulders. The rigid stones of her muscles shocked his senses sober and Robert knew she had felt it.

Had felt him.

"I'm sorry Cora," Robert's words tumbled over one another coming out in a hurried string.

Quickly he let his hands drop and he stepped back from her. Robert's eyes fell, unable to see the horror that he only guessed he would find on her face, and instead they settled on the one spot he had been avoiding for the last three weeks. Now that they finally rested on her belly, he couldn't tear them away. Swiftly, Robert felt as hollow and barren as the smallness of Cora's waist. There was barely any trace there of what once was. A slow, acidic burn cloyed at his throat, one that rose swiftly, stinging the space between his eyes. Robert blinked rapidly before looking back up at Cora's face.

Just as she had felt his desire, she had felt the burden of his gaze and her hands folded tightly in front of her abdomen. She lifted her head, sticking her chin higher, but it quivered and Robert made a move toward her. Cora took a step back and held fast to the door separating their rooms.

"If you are fine to finish, I'll say goodnight." Cora's words were tight, strained but so, so low. Robert almost thought he'd imagined them.

"Of course," Robert replied softly. "I'm sorry I woke you. You should be resting."

Cora's lips lifted slightly. "You didn't wake me."

They both stood there, letting the quiet envelop them. There were so many things there, so many words and feelings, in the quiet. Robert fought the impulse to take her and hold her. Cora hadn't wanted his comfort and he wondered if she didn't blame him for the loss of their child. Perhaps if he had taken better care of her, if he had shown more affection, everything would be different. Perhaps if he were the husband she deserved she would have let him be with her as she grieved. Instead, he had been made to listen to her cries from the loneliness of his tiny dressing room bed.

"Merry Christmas, Robert." The caress of Cora's voice shook him from his thoughts and Robert nodded at her.

"Happy Christmas, Cora." Robert replied as she retreated back into her room.


	2. Chapter 1

**AN: Thank you all so much for the reviews and follows! I hope to have longer chapters after this one.**

Chapter 1

"Not bad news, I hope."

"Oh…," Robert said absently, stuffing the letter that had absorbed his attention so fully back into its envelope. "No, no. Everything is well."

Patrick studied his son and Robert looked away under the buckling intensity of his father's scrutiny. Carefully, he tucked the correspondence into his breast pocket and took up his cigar once again. Robert hadn't been altogether surprised when Carson had placed the evening post beside him and her letter had been resting on top. He had only been afforded passing glances of her penmanship over the last ten months, but its angular, penetrating scribbles were distinct enough to make an impression.

He had been expecting a reply, having written shortly after the incident. His mind skittered around the word she had so intrusively spelled out numerous times in the lines written by her hand...miscarriage. Martha, predictably, did not dance around the facts. What Robert hadn't anticipated was Martha having her own news to share. He felt quite like Pandora's Box lay in his lap now, as he futilely tried forcing the knowledge she had given him back in.

Patrick lifted the decanter of whiskey in Robert's direction and Robert waved him off, the sight of the liquor turning his stomach. He still wasn't fully recovered from the hangover he had suffered the day before, a prolonged punishment for his inebriation. Robert hastily stubbed out the remainder of his cigar, the smoke pluming up between he and his father and he stood.

"If you don't mind, I think I'll go through." At his father's nod of dismissal, Robert left the table.

Entering the drawing room, Robert was disappointed to see Rosamund sitting with their mother, the pair talking quietly. A swell of annoyance rippled over his skin at his sister's presence. Marmaduke had taken the train back to London that morning, but Rosamund had unexpectedly decided to prolong her holiday visit to Downton. Her overly conciliatory behavior towards Cora made her motives dubious and Robert did not appreciate her meddling or her duplicity.

Robert looked about the room. "Where is Cora?"

Violet pursed her lips at his gruff interruption. "She retired early."

"She did?" Robert frowned, though it wasn't really a surprise. It had become her custom recently. Most evenings found him fidgeting in the drawing room with his parents, his mind wandering, his thoughts searching Cora out as she cloistered herself in her bedroom.

"She did look a little wan," Rosamund added. "Is it prudent that she be walking the grounds during the day? It cannot be good for someone who so recently-".

"Please do stop it, Rosamund!" Robert spat, his words halting any further observations from his sister. "Stop your pretense."

Rosamund drew her chin into her neck, her brows coming together in shock. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Yes you do," Robert hissed, becoming more agitated. "Do not pretend you care about Cora's well-being. You are not her friend."

Rosamund leapt abruptly to her feet, slapping at the skirts of her wrinkled dress. "I am truly hurt by your implications, Robert. You know, you can be unreasonably cruel when you want to be." She whirled around in a fury and stomped out of the room. Robert chanced a glance at his mother, who had been watching their argument quietly.

"I admit, Rosamund's motives are not usually altruistic ones, but perhaps you were a touch harsh." Violet said finally, her voice as impassive as her stare. Robert let himself fall into the sofa next to her. He leaned back and rubbed at his temple.

"She is putting on a show, needing to feel involved. Rosamund has no sisterly affection for Cora, let us not kid ourselves." Robert sighed.

"You think us all far meaner than we really are." Violet said, her voice more subdued than Robert was accustomed to. It pulled Robert up from the petulant slouch he had crumpled into and he sat straighter.

"Do I?" Robert snorted. The sound fell flat. "I suppose it's easy for you to forget all of the mean things you _all_ said before the wedding? I however, cannot."

Violet rolled her eyes before fixing them sternly back on Robert. "That was before. What's done is done. She is your wife now."

"Oh, so that changes everything for you? It did not seem that way only weeks ago, months ago, your constant harping on her...".

"Robert, you are such a child when it serves you," Violet pointed out. "What I do, I do out of necessity. Cora needs to learn. I am trying to help you both."

Robert's reply was somewhere between a grunt and a tsk. He crossed his arms, the position causing the letter he had almost forgotten to crinkle, an imperceptive sound that he felt more than heard. So caught in his fretting over how to tell Cora the contents of her mother's correspondence, he hadn't been aware of Violet's movement. Robert startled at the touch on his leg and he jerked his head back in Violet's direction to see the features of her face softening.

"Cora is family now." Violet's words held emphasis, truth. They prodded Robert, making his heart pound fiercely, the blood rushing into his ears. He felt hot and then chilled. Cora was his and he was hers. A family. A pair which they had been close, so very close to making a trio. Robert's eyes dropped and he studied the threads of his pants, though he did not see the fabric at all. No, what he saw was Cora, the way her skin had shimmered, the way the tip of her nose had wrinkled when she smiled widely and told him the news. A baby.

"There will be others, my dear boy." Violet's voice was confident but Robert could not let himself feel the truth in them just yet.

"Will there?" Robert asked. "I don't know, Mama. Cora…". Robert raised his eyes, as though searching for her through the ceiling.

"Give her time," Violet soothed and Robert laughed, despite the ache in his belly. Violet stared at him in confusion.

"It's only that you aren't always so...tender." Robert explained.

Violet turned up her hands in defeat. "Honestly Robert, even I'm not made completely of stone."

Robert chuckled. "Yes, not completely it seems." He grew serious once again and reached into his pocket. "As if there weren't enough happening, I received this from Mrs. Levinson tonight."

Robert handed the letter to his mother. Violet raised an eyebrow before carefully unwrapping the envelop and easing the paper out. She held it away from her and scanned the succinct words written by his mother-in-law. The lines around her mouth deepened as she frowned. Violet folded the letter once more when she was finished and placed it on her lap.

"Well, what are you going to do?" Violet asked.

Robert released the breath he held and closed his eyes. "What can I do? I cannot keep this from Cora."

Violet leaned forward forcing him to look at her. "I'm not sure it would be wise to tell her in her condition."

"Oh Mama," Robert said. "She's stronger than you think, you know."

"I'm not saying she isn't." Violet replied. "I'm simply pointing out that this might not be the best time to learn her father is dying."

Robert stood, walked to the fireplace, then turned and walked back to the sofa. He continued his pacing, struggling over what to do. Though Robert had just defended Cora's strength, in truth she seemed terribly fragile lately. Exposing her to more heartache was something he wasn't sure he could manage. Wasn't it why Martha had written him in the first place? To protect her from the reality? Yet to not tell her felt extremely dishonest.

Violet clapped her hands together. "I've an idea. Martha says they are going to Egypt. Surprise Cora with a trip. It will do you both good."

Robert stopped his pacing, his mouth falling open. "You want me to take my wife to the desert?! Half a world away? For what purpose?"

Violet sighed laboriously. "Robert, must I explain everything to you. It will allow Cora to see her father, which could very well be the last time. And then it will be the Levinson's responsibility to tell their daughter of his condition."

"It seems very close to lying." Robert countered, but part of him was already agreeing with the plan. Surely, once they were there, once the Levinson's were confronted with Cora, they would tell her about Isador's cancer. And Cora would be thankful that he'd brought her to them, she wouldn't see it as a betrayal at all.

* * *

 _December 31, 1890_

"Did you forget something, Mitchell?" Cora called absently as her bedroom door opened. She kept her focus on the small pocket watch in her hands, the tiny grooves of the dial nipping the pads of her fingers as she wound it round and round. _The gold face could use a polishing_ , she mused to herself. Gingerly holding the chain attached to her father's old watch, Cora held it out, ready to instruct her maid on its care.

"Oh!" Cora exclaimed, the watch dangling like a pendulum in front of her. Robert stood over the threshold of her bedroom, his hands clasped behind his back.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," Robert said quietly.

"Oh no, you didn't. I thought you were...well, you heard who I thought…". Cora's voice faded off and she looked away.

Placing the watch on the cold marble top of her vanity, Cora played nervously with the chain. Biting down, she worried the gummy flesh of her bottom lip and pushed her breath through her nose, hoping to quell the queasy sensation filling her stomach. Since their loss, being in Robert's presence knocked her off balance, pinched her breath and left her short of gasping. Cora couldn't think too long on what it meant, how unworthy she felt of the affection he obviously wanted to show her. Instead, she avoided him, wanting to ignore the way his eyes appeared more grey than blue when he looked at her, they way they held her in their care whenever they were in a room together.

"I was sorry to hear Carson say you'd come up." Robert offered, coming further into the room.

Cora swallowed around the tightening in her throat. "I was feeling rather tired."

"I know," Robert said. The compassion those two syllables contained made it difficult for Cora to speak. "But you cannot spend your first New Year's at Downton alone in your room."

Cora smiled briefly, dipping her head down further, waiting for the well of tears in her eyes to subside. "Of course. The toast."

"Well, luckily I brought the champagne to you, milady."

Cora's head snapped up at the sudden teasing and she couldn't help but laugh, a genuine, vibrating laugh at Robert's mockery of a bow. When he straightened Cora saw the glasses he carried, a full bottle of his father's best champagne clutched in his hand. And something else. An unmarked envelope. With curiosity, Cora watched Robert unpeel the gold foil and she jumped as the cork popped loose of the neck, a foaming surge of alcohol oozing from the bottle. Cora giggled as Robert clumsily tried to catch the bubbling river with one of the flutes only to drop the glass, the torrent running down his arm. Leaning forward quickly, Cora pressed the rim of the other flute to the champagne bottle, catching it before any more could soak Robert.

"Well, that was the least graceful entrance I've ever made," Robert muttered and Cora chuckled, placing a hand on Robert's arm. Robert's brows lifted as he watched her and Cora, under the warmth of his eyes, let her hand fall. She coughed, needing something to fill the silence that had crept in on them but Robert snatched her hand quickly, holding it in his, keeping her where she was.

"It's almost midnight," Robert whispered, leaning closer so that his lips were right above her ear.

"Hmm," Cora hummed, closing her eyes and inhaling. She had missed his scent, the heady mixture of oak and tobacco and _him._

"Four, three, two, one." Robert counted off, each number said lower and lower until his voice was just the tickle of a breath. He stayed close, each exhale brushing against her neck had Cora sunk into him, his arm coming around to embrace her tightly before he tipped her chin up and covered her mouth with his. A groan lodged itself against Cora's sternum as Robert's tongue flickered against her own and only loosened itself, flowing from her mouth as he pulled away.

"I have one last gift for you," Robert declared, placing the envelope he had been holding into her hand.

"Oh?" Cora replied, breathless.

With an encouraging nod from Robert, Cora tore into the long paper, pulling out its contents. Unfolding the packet, she scanned the documents and then froze, the paper starting to quiver.

"Is this real?" Cora wondered.

Robert's lips stretched across his face and Cora had to stop herself from leaping into his arms. "We leave next month."

"Robert," Cora said when she could find her voice. "Did you plan this with Mother? She and Father will be in Egypt then as well! She wrote just a few days ago to say so."

"I did. I thought you might like to see them. It's almost been a year after all." Robert said, a flicker of something passing over his eyes. Cora was too happy to question it.

"Oh Robert, thank you. Thank you so very much!" Unable to resist any longer, Cora wrapped her arms around Robert's shoulders, holding him close. When she felt his answering embrace, she sighed, some of the melancholy that had settled around her dissipating, excitement for their upcoming adventure taking its place.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 _January 20, 1891*_

Cora gave Robert her hand and stepped carefully out of the coach, the stiff leather soles of her kidskin boots scraping against the chilled cobblestones. He left her in a hurry, directing the porter to the bags in the next carriage and Cora turned up the fur collar of her cloak, reaching back into the relative warmth of the hansom for her muff.

The air coming off of the water found its way between each stitch and thread of her clothing. It touched her skin with it's frozen fingers, as intimate as a lover's caress and Cora burrowed down deeper into the protection of her wools. A light snow fell, adding a serenity to the wintry landscape, and the steam puffing from the ship's enormous stack mingled with the sunless grey of the sky. Southampton looked much as it did almost a year ago, the last time she had been a passenger at sea, a young girl on the verge of marriage.

It was odd to think about the time that had passed from that moment to this. Cora felt as far away from that girl as she did the characters in the novels she loved to read. She was no closer to feeling like a viscountess either.

The light touch of Robert's palm between her shoulder blades shook Cora from her thoughts. She glanced up at him, forced her face to imitate a smile and then turned her eyes to the ship waiting in the harbor. The _RMS Victoria*_ loomed before them, a giant tin whale inciting a groan from its moorings as it bobbed gently on the surprisingly calm sea. Robert had mentioned the ship's recent christening, and though this wasn't her maiden voyage, she was new enough that the hull was still pristine, unblemished.

"My Lord, I've the room assignments." Jones approached, papers in hand and gave them to Robert before joining the posse still unloading their luggage. Robert's valet, along with her maid, took command of the scene and soon Cora watched case after case being wheeled up the ramp towards the ship.

A long, thick sigh mingled with the noises on the dock and Cora glanced over to Robert. His gaze was focused upward to the sky before it flickered to the brick warehouses extending away from the harbor. Something about the downturn of his lips, the gloomy curve of his shoulders, something about the way he looked about him, his hungry eyes already starving for the land he hadn't yet left, made Cora pull her cloak even tighter. Within the sanctuary of her inner most thoughts, Cora had dared to hope Robert's trip was a gesture born of some deeper emotion, one that had developed under the radar of her notice. Now confronted with the sour pucker of his expression, she was no longer sure.

When he finally looked down at her again, another large sigh expanding his chest, Cora turned away. The silence lengthened, it yawned and settled while Cora refused to look back, pretending she couldn't feel the weight of Robert's eyes. Her fingers clenched together within the cocoon of her muff.

The squeal of the gigantic ship's horn sent Cora's heart upward, stealing her breath and attention. She took in its expansive, metallic body, the spattering of tiny windows circling its middle and any excitement she had harbored seemed to drain from her body, leaving her dizzy and claustrophobic. Visions of their honeymoon, the last time it had been just she and Robert and a country full of strangers, came unwelcomed into her mind. They had been just as unfamiliar with each other as the foreigners they met along the way. Now there would be so much more expectation, the gaps that still remained in their knowledge of one another more harshly obvious and discomforting.

And then there was the baby, which they refused to speak of.

The uncomfortable quiet that had emerged between them continued for the length of another heartbeat before Robert broke it. A barked half cough cleared his throat and Cora winced, the sound rubbing her rawly.

"Shall we board?"

The words were said with a nonchalance that was practiced, false. As though they hadn't just stood in each other's company and shifted around like two awkward acquaintances. Cora nodded and Robert extended his hand, waiting for her to pass by. She traveled the length of the ramp, holding her skirts in her hand and looking at her feet, trying to think of the end of the journey, of seeing her parents once again, instead of the sixteen days she and Robert would spend at sea, the two of them pushed together without the buffer of his family. Only months before it would have been a thrilling prospect, all that time in his company without interruption.

"The rooms are this way my lord. Milady." Jones had appeared at the first landing as they stepped onto the deck and Cora followed the older man as he led them through a pair of ornately gilded doors and into the grand lobby of the ship.

Cora slowed down, allowing Robert to pass her and speak lowly to Jones while she took a moment to gawk at their surroundings. Some of the oppressive glumness that had been squeezing its arms around her loosened as she took in the elegant appointments of the porter's station, the grand staircase, the rich carpets. In the beauty of the ship's bowels Cora wondered if something had changed within her, something fundamental in her psyche to be so easily wooed by moodiness. She should have been happy, gloriously giddy since Robert's announcement of their trip, instead of devising reasons for Robert's aloofness on the dock.

"Cora?" Robert called from over his shoulder, stopping and Cora, who had been too deep in her own thoughts, walked into his back.

"Easy," Robert chuckled and in the span of those syllables, the color of his eyes finally shifted from the murky grey of the morning to the sparkling blue that captured her so completely. Cora couldn't tell if it was a swell in the water that rocked the floor under her feet or her own breathlessness at the way Robert's skin crinkled at the crease of his eyes when he smiled down at her, like a parenthesis around his face. And despite the rocky start to their journey, she smiled too.

Cora and Robert walked side by side down the rest of the corridor until they reached the door Jones had passed through. Entering the stateroom, Cora saw Mitchell already making quick work of unloading her cases and Jones disappeared through the adjoining room, presumably to do the same with Robert's. Turning in the spot she stood, Cora was happily impressed with her surroundings, the room a good foot or two larger than the last cabin she was in. A snort of sorts escaped her as she thought about it.

Robert stopped his movement towards his own room and cocked his head. "What's so funny?"

Cora shook her head, embarrassed. "Not funny, really. Just thinking of the last time I was on a ship and how different it all is now."

Robert stared blankly for a moment before his mouth opened. "Ahh. Yes." Robert said before flicking his eyes away from her and studying the hat he held in his hands. "I hope it isn't dreadfully different. Your life now."

The tips of his ears blushed under Cora's scrutiny and she could see the pulse in his neck quicken as Robert stood perfectly still, waiting. The uncertainty in his words permeated the air and any lingering unhappiness lifted from Cora's shoulders. Robert could do that to her, turn her mood from one breath to the next. And now, clutching his hat and refusing to meet her eyes like a chastised school boy, she only wanted to embrace him close and whisper reassurances in his ear.

"Not dreadful. Not by a long shot." Cora said quietly. Robert looked up quickly, his eyes wide and dancing. The corners of his lips curved up into the flesh of his cheeks and he took a step closer to her, glancing at Mitchell behind her before placing a chaste kiss on her forehead.

Cora closed her eyes, leaning slightly into the touch, before Robert stepped away.

"I should oversee Jones." Robert explained, though he took no action to leave.

"You should." Cora agreed, though she did not want him to go.

"Yes," Robert said absently, still staring into her eyes. Cora's skin buzzed with the desire his look stirred.

"Milady," Jones's voice broke through and Cora glanced away. "Would you like to change into a tea dress?"

"Yes, yes." Cora answered before searching for Robert again, only to see the shadow of his back exiting into his room.

Cora sighed. "Actually Jones, I think I would like to see the ship off from the upper deck. I'll change later."

Jones tsked. "Milady, it's quite cold out."

Cora smiled demurely. "I'll be fine." And with those words, she left the room, intent on exploring her home for the next sixteen days before it set sail.

* * *

Robert rose onto the tips of his toes, hand to forehead as he studied the backs of the people gathered at the railing. The ship's horn bellowed angrily behind him, another warning call that the time was upon them to depart. The startling sound rattled him and he quickly walked further toward the bow, waiting to see Cora's familiar outline in the crowd. When Jones had found him, confessing that Cora had left her room to wander the ship, he had stopped his own business to find her.

Dodging other passengers, Robert leaned into and out of the small groups spattered on the deck, searching the faces for hers. He took a deep breath but the absurd quickening of his heart did not slow down.

"She isn't a child," Robert muttered to himself, deliberately relaxing his steps. He could only imagine he looked like a madman dashing about the boat frantically in search of a grown woman, but lately, being away from Cora set his insides askew, a feeling of wrongness settling in and making him uneasy.

Standing off by herself, Robert spotted her finally, and only then did he feel a calmness take over. Chasing down a waiter with a tray of drinks, Robert took one for each of them before approaching Cora from behind. The wind had picked up a bit from when they had been on the dock. Cora stood with her bare hands gripping the railing, looking down at the harbor and the people gathered to bid them farewell. A few of her curls had been tugged loose by the wintery breeze and they floated around her face, the ebony strands a contrast to the milk of her skin. Sometimes, when Robert looked at Cora, he couldn't quite believe the reality of her, like a rare bird one only ever saw in books suddenly seen in the wild. He simultaneously wanted to bury himself in her and place her carefully behind glass.

Somehow, Cora heard him coming for she turned in his direction before he fully reached her. There was a dreamy, sad look to her eyes, one he had seen quite often in the last few months and as it had every time before, it strangled the words from him, so that all he could do was stare at her dumbly, feebly.

And as she did all those times before, Cora saved him by smiling widely and speaking first.

"You found me." Cora said.

"I almost thought I wouldn't." Robert replied. "It's a jolly turnout."

Cora laughed. "It's always struck me as odd, everyone standing up here and waving to complete strangers down below. And yet here I am."

Robert chortled. "Yes, it does seem strange."

Robert handed Cora her glass of champagne and they both took a small sip, slipping into a comfortable introspection. He watched her over the rim of his glass, the alcohol and her soft face making his belly warm. The apples of Cora's cheeks blossomed as she noticed him looking at her.

"To Egypt." Cora offered, clinking her glass against his.

"To safe travels." Robert answered, taking another sip of his drink.

Cora nodded and they both went back to the railing, shoulder to shoulder as the ship's horn made one last blast into the air. The deck came alive with shouts and movement as did the dock below. The ship lurched away while deckhands scrambled to untie it. Once free, Robert felt the propellers under them chug to action and surge the ship backward, Southampton getting farther and farther away. Feeling slightly untethered as well, he searched for Cora's hand beside him, gripping it tightly. He felt her shift but she did not look up at him, only stepped closer, and though her fingers were chilly, the heat of her body was close and comforting.

 _*One passenger line that operated at the time, the Peninsula and Orient Steam Navigation Company, ran ships out of Southampton to Alexandria and it left port at 2pm on the twentieth of every month. With a stop in Malta to deliver and pick up mail, the entire trip took sixteen days._

 _*The Victoria was a ship in the Peninsula and Orient line built in 1890, but I'm not entirely certain that it actually sailed the Egypt route. I haven't been able to find much in the way of a specific ship that did the Southampton to Alexandria trip in 1890 so I took some fictional liberties here. The Victoria was, however, top of its class at the time and offered the most up-to-date amenities when it came to luxury and technological advances. It was the first cruise ship to offer electricity in some of the cabins and in public areas and one of the first to have water closets for staterooms._


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The voices of the diners seated around them never strayed above a civilized decibel, but there was an undercurrent of energy that carried the words around the room, infusing each staticky syllable with life. It swirled into background noise, along with the periodic clinking of silverware against china, the hollow thud of glass against table. Robert couldn't rightly focus on any of it, not the well worn symphony of a crowded dining room, nor the grandiose and blustering stories of the ship's captain, nor the embarrassingly excessive flattery the women around them bestowed upon the braggart.

None of it could tear his attention away from Cora, who sat across from him. From the moment she had opened her bedroom door, freshly changed and rested for dinner, Robert could think of nothing else. The dress she wore was new, the deep wine color shiny and rich against her paleness. It fit like a second skin, perfectly tailored to her slight frame. The fabric danced around Cora as she walked by his side, so gracefully, so vibrantly that Robert was sure if he touched it he would find the garment had its own pulse. Her ebony tresses piled up on her head were an intricate maze of roadways weaving in and out of the mountains of her curls and Robert longed to run his fingers through it.

The depth of the dress's color pulled her eyes into a deeper shade of blue, an hypnotic hue he'd only ever seen in paintings.

He'd taken her hand then, surprising her surely, but Robert could no more help his instinctive touch then he could help the odd coil in his chest whenever she was near. Everything had seemed too small while he stood there looking at her, but once he felt the fabric of her glove against the damp of his palm, the world expanded again.

And now, seated across from her, Robert couldn't lift his eyes from the pout of Cora's lip, the embrace they made around the fork as she carefully placed each bite of food in her mouth. He stared as she slowly lowered the silverware to rest on her plate and then picked up the crystal goblet beside it. A soft breeze of laughter floated across the table before Cora took a sip of wine and briefly her eyes found his, still staring. The curl of her lashes brushed against the top of her cheek and her smile peaked out at him from behind the rim of the glass.

Oddly, Robert felt no embarrassment at being caught, and instead was quite thrilled to find Cora's eyes searching out his own more frequently during the course of the meal. And even though he had never subscribed to any notion so saccharinely ridiculous before, he grew more certain that unspoken promises were being passed back and forth with each fluttering look.

The meal dragged along, course after course paraded out by waiters with the speed of sloths. Robert's knee began to bounce under the cover of the table and he fidgeted with his lap napkin as empty plates were laboriously cleared and precious minutes stretched out until they were once again eating. Cora did not help his escalating anxiousness, her eyes becoming brighter and brighter with each sip of wine, her laughter growing looser, fuller. The garnets around her slender neck caught the light every time she moved, drawing his attention to its firm muscles and the long dip toward her decolletage. Robert tried to snatch his eyes away from that spot on her body, but they wouldn't be deterred, caressing her flesh the way his hands itched to. The mousse in his mouth turned too sweet and Robert choked it down, taking up his wine and pulling a long drink from it.

Finally the captain stood, addressed the diners and then left the room. The band in the corner, who had been playing lowly and slowly picked up their tempo and a few eager souls rushed the dance floor for the first waltz. Cora clapped her hands as the first few chords were struck.

"Oh, my-"

"Favorite." Robert finished for her and Cora's lips parted as she took in a breath and held it.

"That's right," Cora said happily, her face alight with the brilliance of her grin.

Robert came around to her side of the table and offered his hand. "I am paying attention you know. Even if it doesn't always seem like it."

"Apparently," Cora replied, her brows furrowing with confusion as he led her not onto the dance floor but toward the exit of the dining room.

"Can I promise to beg them to play it tomorrow if we can excuse ourselves tonight?" Robert tried to keep the need out of his voice, but by the way Cora's features changed, the quick raise of her eyes and the sly set of her lips, he knew he had placed himself at her mercy. She slowed her steps as he tugged her along.

"Oh, and what did you have in mind? An evening stroll on the upper deck?" Cora asked innocently.

"Too cold," Robert replied briskly, not turning back but continuing to pull an increasingly resistant Cora along.

"There is an extensive library we haven't explored yet. Perhaps some light reading?" Cora suggested, her shoes dragging along the carpet.

"Cora," Robert growled, the door to her cabin within sight.

Cora chuckled behind him, a sigh capping the sound as her finger lightly stroked the top of his knuckles and Robert spun, pulling her forcefully into his arms and backing her against the wall, his mouth on hers before he could think to stop. She sagged into the cup of his body, her hands already under his jacket and clawing at his shirt and he pressed himself into her. Robert fumbled with the latch of her door, the ping of its release filling his ears and he clumsily guided them into the sanctuary of her room.

Once they were truly alone and tucked away behind the door, any restraint Robert held onto was lost. Hungrily he sucked at the tender flesh of Cora's neck, her head arching back to afford him more access. Her hands deftly undid the buttons of his clothing as his own rubbed harshly over her bodice, her back, the tangles of her hair. Soon Robert realized she had him down to his knickers and stockings while not a thread had been peeled off of her body. Before Robert could devise a plan to rid Cora of her dress, she pushed him back onto the bed. Climbing on top, she blazed a trail of kisses across his chest. Her lips pressed the kinky hair covering his flesh and Robert gripped the sheets, his breathing coming and going in fits. She had never taken such an aggressive lead in their coupling, and that along with the slow build up during dinner had the blood surging to his lower extremities, leaving him feeling faint and virile at the same time.

Robert's knees shook as she lowered herself, the heat of her mouth playing across his abdomen, her fingers brushing his sides. Robert groaned and his hips lifted of their own volition, meeting the weight of Cora's body. He was humming and trembling, and his hands clenched and released the bedding and when that wasn't enough, when his head bobbed back and forth as Cora slinked lower, as her kisses fell just below his navel and the hardness in his groin throbbed and grew wet and ached, an ache that was sweet and terrible, Robert buried his hands in her hair. His fingers weaved themselves in the velvet of her strands and he pushed down. He had no control of what he was doing, in the back of his thoughts he knew he was being too rough, too base, but Cora responded anyway, somehow knowing what to do.

"Ugh!" Robert cried when Cora's moist mouth was on the tip of his groin, the fabric of his underwear chafing and painful but tightening the coil that was about to spring deep inside of him.

Frantically Robert found Cora and lifted her by her arms. He pushed his mouth to hers, biting at the tenderness of her lips, suckling them until she squirmed. His hands mercifully found the buttons of her dress, slipping each pearl through its eyelet until he and she pushed the miles of fabric away. Cora leaned up and reached behind her back, quickly untying the lace of her corset and Robert pulled the offending cage, both of them sighing as she was set free. The rest of her chemise followed and when Robert's hands finally molded around her naked flesh he knew it wouldn't be long. Cora arched into his touch, her own movements becoming more frenzied as she straddled his waist. He lifted and she lowered and then he was deep inside of her. Jerking up, holding Cora's hips in place, Robert bit the inside of his cheek, the air starting to thicken in his chest. He reached up and touched her nipple and Cora cried out as she spasmed around him, yanking him over the edge with her.

Spent, Cora collapsed on top of him and as Robert's heart hammered in his ears, he placed small kisses on the bare freckles of her shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and closed his eyes, the smell of sweat and lavender occupying the air around them.

* * *

It was thirst that had woken him but once he had stumbled through the dark and into the washroom in search of water, Robert could not easily go back to sleep. First, it was indecision that kept him awake. He stood by the foot of Cora's bed, naked and cold, watching as the covers rose and fell with her steady breathing. He should have gone back to his room as soon as they'd finished, but he had been so tired, and she had been so warm.

Robert took his eyes away from Cora and glanced at the evidence of their haste, his clothes and hers littered around the room. He thought about gathering his garments and retreating to his room and with the thought came the responding need to act. Stepping carefully and squatting down, Robert grabbed at his discarded trousers. A noise from the bed froze his movement and he stretched up to see that Cora stayed undisturbed. Returning to his task, Robert scooped up the rest of his clothes and stood quickly, ready to flee when the noise happened again. On tip toes, Robert moved closer. It had certainly come from Cora and was something between a whimper and a murmur with a few unintelligible words punctuating the silence. Robert leaned in, searching her face under the cascade of her unplated hair. It was pinched with tension and another whimper puffed through her slack lips.

Cora had a way of curling herself into the smallest ball possible when sleeping, all limbs tucked and folded so that it was almost impossible to see any part of her. It made him want to smooth his hand down her back and coax her to take as much room as she needed, to relax, to convince her there was no economy of space where she was concerned.

Abandoning his tails on the room's small chair, Robert gingerly climbed back into the bed and he gave into his mind's wish. He placed his hand on her and made soothing passes up Cora's back. He wasn't sure what she dreamt of, but he could feel her muscles turn liquid under his touch. Settling back down, Robert arranged the bedding around them and laid his head on the other pillow. In her sleep Cora turned, her arm falling across his middle and Robert took her in his embrace, nestling close.

Now that he had decided to stay, he had expected sleep to come back and claim him once again. But instead, he stared at the ceiling, tuning into the gentle sway of the ship as it swiftly cut through the ocean. He counted the beats of Cora's heart, her pulse nudging against his ribs. Robert tried closing his eyes but instead of the welcome void of slumber, the words of Martha's letter burned into his retinas, causing his eyes to spring open once again.

The lie he sheltered, and it was a lie, sat in his gut like a tumor, painful and large. There had been many times over the last few weeks where Robert was on the verge of blurting out the Levinsons secret, but he couldn't quite force out the words. And the longer he kept silent, the worse the offense of omission seemed.

Cora stirred, the rustling of her nightdress followed by a heavy breath through her parted lips. The heat of it fell against the cool skin of his chest creating a storm of gooseflesh to pimple him and Robert shivered.

"Robert…" Cora murmured, her voice laced with the cobwebs of sleep. Immediately, his throat tightened. She remained still, saying no more, falling back into the clutches of slumber, but Robert knew that tone, that gentle, quiet sweet way she would say his name sometimes. It was full of...love.

And now, more than ever, Robert felt terribly unworthy of such a gift, and his budding fear was that she would finally see that he was, once she knew what he was keeping from her.


	5. Chapter 4

Cora waited as Mitchell finished lacing up her boots, an uncharacteristic impatience snuffing out her better nature. She looked longingly to the tiny portal window, it's roundness framing the grey sky, a false moon carved into the wall. An angry storm had kept them inside the confines of the ship the past two days. The vessel pitched on with its inhabitants clinging to its walls to keep from toppling over, and though Cora's stomach had rolled perilously along with the sway of the swells, it was the staleness of the air as their confinement stretched on, that truly made her nauseous.

Her thoughts drifted, as they often did these last solitary days, to the morning she woke in Robert's arms. It had been an unexpected gift, to feel his body into the new hours of the day. Cora could count on one hand the number of times Robert had lingered after love making. And as it had those few times, his presence as the sun was just coming up always warmed her to her core. In those times she could easily pretend that theirs was not a one-sided love affair, and she could snuggle into that happy fantasy as his breath hit the bare skin of her shoulder.

But it _was_ only a fantasy, and when Robert had woken, when he had placed a peck on her forehead and left her room without commentary, it had come to an abrupt end.

Robert had been cordially distant after that, seemingly returning to a place of weary contemplation. His silences were more pregnant, his absences from her side more prolonged. Just that afternoon Cora had gone looking for him, only to be informed by Robert's valet that he had been invited for debate and cigars by some of the gentlemen sailing with them. Luncheon had come and gone without any word and Cora was not inclined to wait on him again through tea.

"Your hat, milady." Mitchell affixed the item securely on her head and Cora winced as the hairpins scraped along her scalp.

Finally fitted for the brisk temperatures the storm had left in its wake, Cora walked with purpose through the hallway and past the grand staircase dominating the lobby. She tipped her head amicably to the others out strolling, people whose faces and names were becoming familiar to her as their days together grew in number.

Cora gripped the knob of the door leading to the upper deck, bracing herself for a chilly welcome, but was pleasantly surprised to feel some sun breaking through the clouds. Her steps took on a lightness, the fresh air adding life to her stifled lungs. The breeze coming off of the water was typical of that found on the deck of a ship. Saturated with salt, it left a briney taste in Cora's mouth, a sticky film on her exposed skin, but none of that mattered. In fact, her whole body seemed to unfurl from its forced hibernation. That sensation, along with walking in the opposite direction from where the ship was sailing, made her feel slightly intoxicated.

Intent on catching the view from the stern, Cora continued to the back of the ship. With each step she let the insecurities that had festered all morning fade away. Instead, she focused on the end of their journey and how much she was anticipating her reunion with her parents. Almost a year after her marriage to Robert, Cora felt a rift had been caused between she and her father. The few words he dropped at the end of her mother's letters grew more terse and more sparse as time passed and Cora was anxious to see him in person.

Isadore had not agreed with the match from the start. His last words said to her face had been angry ones, desperate ones that he had hissed between clenched teeth in the back of the coach that led them through Downton Village. As the villagers lined the streets to catch a glimpse of the new Viscountess and throw flowers in her direction, her father's words drowned out any of their well wishes. Isadore continued to demand she walk away even as the coach stopped at the steps of the church, Reverend Travis waiting there to greet them as they approached.

Cora had taken offense at the time, hurt by his seeming lack of confidence in her wifely abilities, angered by his stubborn refusal to be made happy by her match. Now, many months after the ink had dried on the contract entailing her dowry to Downton, Cora wondered what her father would say to the terms of that agreement, if he ever found out. She had been too afraid of his response to ever mention it in her letters.

A gust of cooler wind raced over the deck of the ship, tearing Cora away from the past. She turned up the collar of her coat and curled her gloved fingers into the fold of her fist, warming their cold tips. The sounds of high-pitched squeals cut through the conversations of the other promenading passengers. Ahead Cora could see children at play towards the back of the ship, unperturbed by the cold or the adults parting around them as they walked by.

Taking care not to disturb their game, Cora sat in a lounge chair far enough away so that she could observe them in anonymity. Two women, nannies Cora guessed, chatted to one another a few paces away, too engrossed in their conversation to be paying their charges much mind. An intense game of marbles was underfoot, and Cora couldn't help but stare at the youngest of the children gathered. A girl of no more than four, perhaps, clung to her doll as she sat further away. Her long, mahogany curls cascaded over the rich blue wool of her coat, a bonnie matching cap pinned to the top of her head.

She was beautiful, picture perfect in every way, and a dull ache began pulsating deep in Cora's chest, her muscles tingling with a familiar pain. It was the same discomfort that developed when she held Robert's cousin Patrick, his chubby little body filling up all of the right spaces in her arms, his baby smell tickling her nose. The pain had disappeared when her hands could press against the still flat plane of her abdomen, her tiny child growing inside, but that had been but a brief moment. Her happiness cut short and shattered by her own feeble body.

Cora longed for it, motherhood. With every throb of her heart, she longed for it but she was beginning to despair that it was not meant to be.

The scene blurred, it rippled and stung, salt in a weeping wound and Cora looked away, quickly, blinking rapidly. She couldn't remember wanting something more than the swell of a belly full of her child. It surpassed every impulse Cora had ever had, including the desire that had led her to accept Robert's proposal. That she should be denied the one thing she was most desperate for after so long of trying seemed a cruel turn that she didn't deserve.

There was so much love within her heart, love too fragile to be freely given to Robert, not after his pained look the one time she had exposed it. Cora needed something to love with abandon.

"Mitchell said you were out here."

Robert's shoes came into Cora's line of vision first. The tips of his highly polished, Italian leather Derby's peering out from the hem of his wool pants. She could almost see her reflection in them. The shoes lifted off of the deck, one and then the other as he shuffled and Cora could well imagine the look on Robert's face as he waited for her to acknowledge him, the blinking eyes, the curve of his brows as they bristled together in confused impatience.

Robert cleared his throat but instead of glancing up at him, Cora looked again to the children playing. The young girl cradled her doll lovingly and with her face just inches away from the painted porcelain one, she whispered platitudes lost in the breeze. She stroked the auburn curls with such serious care, and Cora remembered the days of her own childhood, the maternal attentions she lavished on her beloved dolls as a child. It hurt to look any longer, so Cora turned her head up to Robert, only to find his eyes lingering where hers had just been.

"Aren't they quite marvelous?" Robert asked absently, his voice far away. It held the same need Cora felt in her breast.

Cora could only nod in response, her gaze falling to the hands she held twisted together in her lap. She shuddered, unsure if the wind had just gathered strength or if she had been previously impervious to it. Robert noticed her movement.

"Are you cold?" Robert asked while squatting lower to see her face, an unexpected gesture that had the ache in her chest falling into the pit of her stomach, where it settled.

Cora's throat tingled and her mouth felt suddenly parched. She squeezed her hands together tighter.

Jerking her head quickly, Cora said, "No, but I think I would like to lie down."

Robert's eyes widened and he looked her over closely. "You look a bit drawn. I hope you aren't getting ill!"

Cora's chuckle, meant to reassure, came out weaker than intended. Fatigue kept her planted to her seat and she swallowed down the thickness climbing up the back of her throat. Robert took her elbow quickly, the tense pulsing of his jaw indication that the distress she was feeling had played out over her face. She let Robert's large hands guide her up, one staying firmly on her arm as the other wrapped around her back. The waves of nausea crested harder now that she was standing and walking and Cora's vision watered as Robert led her quickly through the ship.

The path to their rooms seemed endless as Cora tried to breath through the urge to be sick. The relief of seeing her stateroom's door come into view was unparalleled and Cora clamped her teeth together purposefully, counting to ten silently, her nostrils flaring.

"Almost there," Robert's voice attempted to soothe while he navigated the knob and kept an arm around her.

Cora closed her eyes, listening to the latch disengage with the door frame. It was already late in the afternoon and the grey sky still sheltered the sun, casting the room in an eerie light. A gas lamp flickered on the wall, as did a fire in the hearth, no doubt lit by Mitchell in her anticipation of Cora's return. Robert took her hands in his and led her to the bed and Cora sat, some of the nausea receding, though a strange vertigo still threatened.

The mattress protested as she sank into it. Cora watched as Robert moved the small parlor chair close to the bed and sat on it's edge, their knees touching. He concentrated on the clasps of her cloak, each pewter end snapped away from its pair, the sound of their disentanglement mixing with the crackle of wood. The familiar scent of oak meeting flame quelled the lingering queasiness, as did the light touch of Robert's fingertips as he pushed the cloak from Cora's shoulders. She sighed, letting the garment fall away from her and she let her head fall back slightly on her neck.

Robert gently pushed on her shoulder, coaxing her back until she laid on the bed, a pillow tucked under her embrace. Unfolding the soft blanket on end of the bed, Robert spread it over her before sitting down. His smooth palm rested on her forehead and Cora sighed.

"Should I send for the doctor?" Robert's voice was low.

Cora shook her head. "No. I feel much better already."

"Good," Robert replied, the hand he used to test her temperature now stroking the fine hairs that gathered along her hairline. Cora fought the urge to clasp his hand tight to her breast bone.

 _I love you,_ Cora cried within the confines of her own thoughts. And she did. It was a feeling that grew, despite the time it spent in the shadows of her heart. Cora had hung all of her hopes, pushed away all of her father's misgivings, on the belief that if given time, Robert would come to love her too. That he cared for her, felt some responsibility towards her, Cora couldn't deny. She would even dare to say that they had a friendship, one that became easier every day. But love? No...no, that had not blossomed. Nor, Cora believed, could it now.

* * *

Robert shook the small square of paper he held in his hands but the tiny letters curving around the sketched roads remained illegible. The hand drawn map he'd purchased from a Maltese boy on the dock might as well have been a page of hieroglyphics for all the help it offered navigating the island's narrow streets. Squinting to make sense of the foreign words, Robert jumped onto his toes as a loud honking from behind demanded his attention. Flattening up against the stone wall of a non-descript building, Robert watched as the donkey responsible for the noisome sound trotted by, loaded down with sacks and blankets, its owner ambling behind. The man shrugged his shoulders and gave Robert a toothless grin, obviously in much less of a hurry than his beast.

The temperate climate of the Mediterranean was a shift from what Robert had grown accustomed to on the ship. He pulled out a kerchief from his breast pocket to wipe the moisture quickly forming on the back of his neck. Studying the maze of roads winding away from him, Robert looked back down to his map, and then quickly glanced up again. He should have brought Jones with him.

After several more moments of growing frustration, Robert angrily folded the paper into precise quadrants and clenched his fist around it. Inhaling deeply through his nose, Robert stretched his neck to look up, trying to decipher the strange hybrid language scrolled out on the signs hanging from above each doorway. Taking a few steps forward, his footfalls echoed a newly restored determination as his shoes slapped the cobblestones.

The fraying papers in a window several paces away told him that he had found his destination. Robert leaned into the open doorway of the small office tucked in the corner of a quiet street. The rapid fire, tick, tick, tick of the telegraph machine was a welcome noise and Robert clasped the frame of the door, preparing to step up, when he paused.

Suddenly he wasn't so sure about himself and not for the first time, he wondered at his stupidity. Robert recalled back to Christmas and New Year's Eve, the correspondence he had with Cora's mother. Just the idea of the subterfuge they deployed to create their plan made Robert sweat more than he already was. It had been Martha's idea to leave Isadore in the dark about Cora and he joining their holiday. Thinking she knew both her husband and daughter better than he had left him little room for arguing her logic, but now Robert wondered if it hadn't been a colossal mistake. He could only imagine the look on Cora's face when they finally met up with her parents, being greeted by shock and perhaps ire as opposed to the happiness and excitement she undoubtedly anticipated. Robert had planned to telegram Martha during the ship's brief stop in Malta, and beg her to reconsider telling Isadore before their arrival. But now he couldn't help but worry his efforts would be too late.

An old woman sat behind the machine, transcribing it's message as it chittered on. Her eyes wandered up to him and her sun-hardened face broke out into deep tanned grooves. She nodded to him in acknowledgment before returning to her work. Robert lingered in the doorway, passing his folded up map from one hand to the other, waiting for her attention. From where he stood, Robert could appreciate the space the telegraph office occupied, it's cramped walls, its sparse furnishings. The machine itself shook with the force of transmitting all of those dashes and dots and Robert would not have been surprised to be told that it was the very first of its kind.

The office grew quiet and Robert turned to see the old woman watching him expectantly. Her mouth moved and a rush of words left it, aimed in his direction though Robert could not understand them. Robert shook his head.

"English?" Robert asked.

"No, no." The woman shrugged apologetically.

Robert walked to the desk anyway, fishing out the paper that he had stuffed into his coat pocket before leaving his stateroom on the _Victoria_. Spreading it out on the worn surface of the counter separating them Robert pointed to the words written in his precise hand. The woman bent closer to the paper, lifting her head up and down and Robert's spine straightened, the feeling of being mollified making him bristle.

"I need you to send this," Robert demanded not caring that it was a useless request. "To Egypt."

The woman started speaking quickly to him, her hands gesturing along with her rapid fire words. Robert strained to follow her, to even pick out one recognizable string of syllables, but nothing could be deciphered. Groaning, Robert picked up his message to Martha and turned sharply away. Barging his way through the door, Robert stumbled onto the sidewalk just as a parade of natives gathered in the street, a religious procession heavily underway. Women passed him, their long white dresses sweeping the cobbles of the street as they marched slowly by, accompanied by men in dark morning suits. They sang a hymn in time to their measured, lumbering steps, their voices reverberating off of the ancient buildings closing them off from the main thoroughfare of the town. Up ahead, leading the pack, Robert could see a statue of the Virgin Mary sitting on a velvet pillow, hoisted above the heads of the marchers.

Quickly trying to navigate a path out of the fray, Robert jostled and bumped his way through the entourage lining up beside the procession. Old men yelled at him, waving their hands as Robert stuttered his apologies. The breath left his lungs in shorter gasps, the constant jab of elbows and shoulders into his person making him frantic in his need to find an opening out of the sea of people. They were equally determined to carry him along, a tide of bodies pushing him further away from the direction he wanted to go in. It only took a few more near stumbles for Robert's thin tolerance to shatter and he abandoned his civility, pushing his way off of the street.

Robert popped out of the crowd finally, the wave of people cresting behind him as he clasped his knees, hunching over to catch his breath. In their wake, they left an eerie stillness, the winding street absent of life or sound. Straightening his hat Robert was shocked to find his fingers trembling. The air became breathable once again and as he pulled it deep into his lungs, the thumping of his heart slowed. He passed through the same streets he'd used to find the telegraph office, noting the cafes and small shops he had previously rushed by. The sun, which had been vibrant and rotund in the blue sky all day, dipped closer to the roofs of the buildings in the square, reflecting its rays off of the terra cotta shingles.

No matter where he was, dusk always tended to be Robert's favorite time of day.

The thought jarred a nerve within him and his stomach lurched. Fumbling for his pocket watch he flicked open its covering. 5PM. Cursing, Robert began to run toward the dock. He estimated he was still several blocks away and the ship had been scheduled to depart at 5PM sharp. In the distance he could hear the deep, rumbling sound of the steamer blowing its warning horn and Robert pushed his feet to move faster.

Sprinting through an abandoned alleyway, Robert came through the other side in view of the _Victoria._ Stewards were pulling up the walkway, readying the ship for departure and Robert yelled out at them, waving his arms. One man stopped his work and scowled.

Slowing his pace only marginally, it was then that Robert recognized Cora's outline pacing the upper rail, one hand on her hip, the other cupped over her eyes, shielding them as she looked for him on the horizon.

"Cora!" Robert yelled, hopping up the ramp the crew had placed back in its position.

Cora's hand fell away from her face and the tense line of her lips turned up into a wide smile.

"Robert!" Cora called, stepping away from the officer that she had obviously been pleading with to hold the ship, and ran toward him.

Her bare fingers grasped his hands, and though he was covered in a layer of perspiration, her skin was cold. Robert rubbed her palms between his, a skittering relieved string of laughter escaping his lips. The crew members grumbled as they resumed their tasks for leaving port.

"I thought they were going to leave without you!" Cora cried, still clinging to his hands.

"I'm sorry," Robert replied softly, placing a faint kiss on her forehead. And he was. Her eyes closed at his contact, her long lashes tickling her pale cheeks.

Cora's lips curled upward. When she opened her eyes, they no longer looked weighed down with worry. The blue irises searching him were dark, reflecting the change in light as the sun continued its descent toward the horizon. Unlike their departure from Southampton, the deck remained predominantly empty, only a handful of couples strolling its circumference. With his failure to reach Martha still occupying his conscience, Robert was in no hurry to retreat to his room, left to obsess over how badly he had bungled things.

Instead, Robert took Cora's arm and led her around the promenade to the back of the ship, hoping the exposure to fresh air would supply him with inspiration on what he should do. The vessel lurched to life and quickly gained speed, cutting through the azure waters of the Mediterranean. Robert and Cora found themselves alone, watching the sun set, it growing smaller and smaller as they raced East. An array of pinks and purples colored the darkening sky, while golds and ambers bounced off of the water.

"Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?" Cora breathed, the lazy smile of her profile illuminated by all of the refracting rays of dying light.

Robert couldn't speak, his mind unable to conjure the right words. By her heavy lidded gaze, which never left the sky, Robert knew she didn't expect an answer and he was glad of that. How could he possibly say what he felt? How could he possibly make her understand?

"Yes," Robert whispered, so low that Cora remained unmoved, ignorant of his response. And as she continued to watch the sun, Robert could not take his eyes off of her.


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you, thank you all so much for the reviews and follows! Kisses and hugs to everyone!**

Cora tossed in the narrow bed, wrenching the tangled blanket out from under her body. She sighed, pulling the bedclothes up and over herself and stared at the ceiling. She groaned, kicking the covers off once again and letting her arm flop heavily down, outstretched. The boat swayed in time to the waves it cut through, a motion that was barely perceptible. The Mediterranean had been mostly calm after they had left Malta, a welcome change from the tumult of the ocean but even the slight swells were enough to nudge at Cora's rancor. She was tired, so extremely tired of life at sea. After having a brief taste of walking on land, dragging Mitchell with her to the Maltese market while Robert tended to some clandestine errand, Cora's tolerance for cruising had dried up. And now, their last night on the ship, could not end fast enough.

Along with the malaise that had lingered for several days was a growing impatience to meet up with her parents party. Cora had tried many times to coax the itinerary out of Robert, but each of her inquiries had been met with vague answers which were abruptly delivered before Robert changed subjects. The oddity of his behavior left Cora uneasy. She was beginning to worry that not all was what it seemed with this trip and that Robert was keeping something from her. It was not a pleasant feeling to be left with.

With too many questions crowding her tired mind, Cora found no respite in sleep and her body became restless in its fatigue. Throwing her legs off of the bed, Cora bolted up and off of the hard mattress, reaching for her dressing gown. Slipping her feet into the slippers that waited by the arm chair, Cora padded quietly to the door that connected her room with Robert's. She leaned in, listening. Something else had been eating away at her, adding to her inability to shut her eyes and relax.

There had been too much silence on the other side of the wall.

Usually she could hear the muffled sounds of Jones and Robert talking as he readied for bed, the muted bangs and thuds of cases being moved and opened wafted into her space each night. But the undisturbed quiet coming from Robert's room had been as loud as any noise they could make and it had remained so into the late hours.

Cora squinted in the dark to the clock on the fireplace mantle. The hour hand just passed the twelve. Robert had walked her to her room hours before, turning back toward the lounge after seeing her safely in her room. Some of the men were drinking to the end of their voyage and Robert had joined them. Cora had thought he would be back by now, preparing for the traveling they would be doing the next day.

Knocking tentatively on the door, she waited. When it was clear the room was empty, Cora swung open the door, needing to see the vacant bed for herself. Cora leaned against the wall, her thumb finding it's way to her mouth as she chewed at the nail, thinking. She couldn't help but remember the last time he had gone wandering from her sight, almost missing the boat to Egypt, trapped on Malta with no papers. Robert was a grown man, a proud and stubborn man, but sometimes Cora wondered if he didn't need someone to watch over him. She would gladly be that someone, if he allowed it.

Cora looked back into her own room, her tea dress from the day before airing out, her corset and chemise laying on the top of one of her trunks. She could shimmy herself into it all and go searching for him. Deciding that was the only way to stop her nervous musings, Cora took a step toward her things when the jiggling of the door knob stopped her.

The outer door swung open dangerously, banging against their adjoining wall and the flimsy light of the hallway illuminated Robert's silhouette as he stumbled, several drunk steps behind the door, trying to catch it. He missed, and the sound vibrated through the room. Robert covered his hand with his mouth and winced dramatically, before grasping the knob and slamming it back into the door frame.

"Oh dammit!" Robert slurred and Cora giggled.

Robert sucked in a breath and whirled around, knocking his equilibrium off and he lurched to the right. Cora ran to his side, gripping him as he hung onto her shoulders. Once it was clear Robert would stay on his feet, Cora released some of the tension of her hold, but Robert did not move his hands. Instead, his fingers dug a little deeper into her, roughly massaging her muscles.

"Hello Cora," Robert sung lazily, a goofy smile spread across his lips.

His glassy eyes jumped around her face. The smell of whiskey and tobacco clung to his clothes and Cora's stomach rolled. Drunk and uninhibited, Robert's features lost the pinch they could sometimes pucker into, like he was always deep in concentrated thought, and he truly looked like a little boy. Cora fought the off-putting smell of a night out with the men and hugged him close.

"Hmmm," Robert hummed, sagging into Cora's embrace. "So warm…".

Cora laughed some more. "Robert, are you drunk?"

"Such a pretty sound…" Robert cooed, ignoring her question. He nuzzled down deeper into her neck.

"What?" Cora asked, rubbing her cheek against his chest.

"Your laugh. It's so…". Robert's words petered off into a jumbled mass of unintelligible garbling, but Cora didn't mind. This Robert was her favorite Robert, though she had only seen him so uninhibited a handful of times. Neither over-thinking nor over-correcting himself, he was authentic, genuine. This was the Robert that hid behind the layers of the Viscount Downton. This was the promise of Robert, the man Cora had caught glimpses of during that twirling, rushed season in London.

"Cora?" The content little purring noises Robert had been making in her arms stopped abruptly and a new clarity cut through his voice as he yanked himself away from her.

"Rob-". Cora's calling of his name was lost as Robert staggered toward the washroom, bouncing into walls and furniture. Cora watched, stunned. She screwed her eyes shut and swallowed down as the harsh sounds of retching filled the small quarters.

Cora tread quietly toward the direction Robert had fled in, and peaked into the room. Hunched over the toilet, spasms continued to ripple over Robert's back. Cora's nostrils flared, the acidic smell a trigger to own queasiness and she breathed purposefully through her mouth, ignoring the gooseflesh that broke out over her arms. Finding a small glass by the sink, she filled it with water, and crouched down, laying a tentative hand on Robert's back. Instantly he stiffened at her touch, before slouching again, another wave of illness taking over. Cora murmured soothing words to him, things she wasn't even aware she said, as she stroked the back of his head, the space between his shoulder blades.

Soon silence filled the air, Robert quiet and still. Cora let her hand fall away from him. Wordlessly, she reached around and presented the water. He looked at it dumbly for a moment, his shadowed profile hiding half of his face, before taking it. The glass shook slightly as he brought it up to his lips. Robert hesitated before greedily siphoning the clear liquid. Once he had drained the glass, he handed it back to Cora, refusing to turn and meet her eyes. Cora pushed away the pangs of sadness his embarrassment caused. Hadn't she also hid her sickness from him? The early days of her pregnancy had been spent rushing to the washroom and being as quiet as she could, else she be heard.

Cora shrugged off the hurt and rose, hooking her arms under Robert's and heaving him up. His mass alone made it impossible for her to really get him off the ground but he resisted as well, trying to shake her off. Determined, Cora kept her grip firm, tugging again.

Finally, Robert braced his arms on the floor and hoisted himself up, latching onto Cora as he teetered. She led him to his bed and motioned for him to sit. Robert's eyes blinked heavily, his face slack. His head bobbled on his neck unsteadily. Quickly Cora took off his tails, pants and shoes, leaving his underclothes to be dealt with in the morning. Peeling back the covers, she guided him gently down into the cocoon of the bed. She patted his shoulder and turned to leave when he grasped her hand.

"Stay," Robert mumbled and Cora's heart drummed against her ribs.

Nodding in the darkness, Cora smiled as Robert wiggled toward the middle, making room. She perched on the edge of the bed, glancing at Robert as she slid under the blankets. His mouth hung open, his eyes closed. Cora curled onto her side and just as she settled into the small space left for her, Robert's arm snaked over her hip, his hand pressed into her abdomen. He pulled and she followed, slinking back into the curves of his body. Robert's lips skimmed the top of her shoulder before she felt his head rest against her back.

"Love you…".

Cora tensed, the air in her lungs halted, and she did not move. Her mind frantically rewound the seconds that passed, as she replayed the breathy words again, searching for a misinterpretation. But he had said it! He may have still been intoxicated, he probably would not remember it, but he had said it.

Robert loved her.

Cora gripped his hand, she listened to the light rumble of his snores. The first of her tears pooled in the creases of her eyes, before tickling the bridge of her nose and spilling over onto her pillow.

Robert loved her.

* * *

The inside of his mouth felt as foul as it tasted. His tongue was bloated and thick against his palate, the surface fuzzy and unpleasant. Robert could smell his own breath as he heavily exhaled and his already tender stomach complained, the odor making it lurch. His head protested the smallest movement and when Robert chanced to open his eyes, he immediately shut them, the little light of the room sending rockets of fire to the back of his skull.

When the excruciating throb subsided to a steady thump, Robert tried to think about the previous night. It came back in hazy snippets. Drinks. Cards. The men he'd befriended laughing and carrying on. The contents of his glass never seeming to drain. There was the walk back to his cabin, which had taken longer than it should have because he had gotten turned around. There was falling into the room.

There was Cora.

Her face appeared, a mirage in his remembrance, and he couldn't quite determine if he had dreamt her or if she had been real. Opening the covers and seeing his state of undress, Robert determined it had been her handiwork. Despite the pain behind his eyes, despite the sourness of his stomach, he smiled. Cora.

And then he flung the covers off, the sourness no longer willing to swish around his stomach. He ran to the washroom, and as he hung over the porcelain bowl, another memory bubbled to the surface. Cora had witnessed this very thing. He had vomited right in front of her.

"Ugh." Robert spat furiously into the toilet before climbing back onto his feet, his hands shaking as he doused his face with water.

How would he ever face her this morning? Robert shuffled back into his room and let himself fall onto the bed, the world spinning behind his closed eyes. He inhaled carefully, his stomach still unsettled, when he smelled it. On the pillow, the lavender scent stuck to the sheets. Robert took another deep inhale and the subtle perfume seeped into his pores, erasing his own repugnant odor. He closed his eyes, a wave of peace rippling over him.

And in the distance, beyond the dividing door to her room, a door which had been left opened, he could hear her humming.

Robert concentrated on the fragrance Cora had left behind and the happy little tune she was singing to herself and the awful feeling that had plagued him since wakening was made a little more tolerable. He sighed, letting himself fade back into sleep.

* * *

The chaos of off loading the _Victoria_ began as soon as Alexandria's shore was within sight. The boatswain, a scrawny, bird-like man almost a foot shorter than Robert, yelled to where the passengers had congregated, most pushing their way for a view of the ancient land they approached. Robert stretched up on his toes, looking over heads to see one long, straight pillar of stone reaching up to the sky.

"Pompey's Pillar," Cora supplied, holding her hat to her head as she too mimicked his posture. "Do you see the Pharos on either side?"

Robert squinted his eyes into the hazy sun and found that he did indeed see two Pharos constructed on each side, sentinels guarding whatever mysteries were contained within the monolith. The boat slowed its progress, the Egyptian antiquities bobbed ahead of them, and suddenly, this trip became very real. They weren't just thousands of miles away from home. Robert had been thousands of miles away from England before, when he had made the Atlantic crossing, playing the doting fiance visiting his betrothed during the winter of their engagement. Aside from the imposing face of the Statue of Liberty staring him down as the ship entered New York Harbor, the city he stepped foot in was not so terribly different from any other city he had traveled.

But this, this was like being in another world entirely. Robert couldn't reconcile that the rolling hills of England inhabited the same planet as the mysterious desert land awaiting them. The headache from earlier came back and Robert contemplated how much it would cost to convince the captain to turn around and bring him back to Downton.

Cora, by contrast, was having no such fits of anxiety. She clasped his arm, trying to see over the people ahead of them, eager to drink in the first views of Egypt. Reflected on her face was a look Robert had seen before. The first time he brought her to his home, and she looked to each thing he pointed out with the same large eyes, the same breathless expression. Their honeymoon in Paris, where he was certain she would have stayed out all night absorbing all the city had to show her if he'd let her. And now. She was an adventurer, his Cora.

 _His…_

Robert brushed the thought aside, noting the movement that seemed to be happening. A man he recognized to be the Third Officer stood before the crowd, clipboard in hand and began instructing people down the plank. Robert glanced over the ship's railing to see his fellow seafarers climbing aboard small pontoons, which once full, began ferrying its cargo to land. He and Cora filed into line, shuffling slowly to where the man was.

"Alright, miss, onto this one." The gentleman waved Cora forward, making a notation on his list before holding up a hand in front of Robert. "You'll have to wait on the next one, mate."

Robert clenched his hands together. "It is Viscount and Viscountess Downton, thank you, and I will be going on the same boat as my wife." Robert gestured toward Cora, who had stopped.

The officer shook his head and shrugged. "No can do, _milord._ Milady will be the last one allowed on."

"Well, then, choose another and she shall wait with me," Robert stammered, pointing behind him.

The officer only shook his head more, a mild irritation lifting his eyebrows. "Sorry, that I cannot do either. If I had to count out every pair or party it would take us all day to unload. Nope, she's got to go. And you have to stay."

"But...but…" Robert could feel the heat raising over his collar.

"Robert," Cora called out, smiling. "It's quite alright. It's barely a few hundred yards."

"I haven't the bloodiest idea what a yard is Cora," Robert mumbled, watching as she walked away from him, farther down the winding plank. He looked over the edge, observing as another officer helped her into a life vest and then she climbed into the small boat. Cora found his eyes as she looked up, gave him a reassuring smile and a tiny wave.

And then the boat was pushed off, cutting through the river and toward the shore. Robert followed its trajectory, could see Cora's slim figure sitting up front, getting smaller and smaller until it became hard to distinguish her from the other passengers. The officer waved him on impatiently and Robert sped down the the ramp, struggled into his own life vest and clambered onto the swaying little vessel that would bring him behind Cora. As the others loaded, he searched the waters for her boat, and when he couldn't find her, he searched the people dotting the shore. It was impossible to distinguish her, he knew it would be, but he kept looking.

"Honeymooning?" The older woman beside him, whom he hadn't noticed until she spoke, asked in a rolling Scottish brogue. Robert didn't recognize her from their time on the ship, but then, he doubted he really noticed any of the other women.

Robert glanced down, his hands bunched into fists, clutching his trousers, creasing the fabric. "No".

"Well, either way, that man should have let you on with your wife!" The woman declared, her ire making Robert snicker.

Robert shook his head. "I think I was perhaps a little too aggressive with him. He was only doing his job. And I shall be with her again soon enough."

The older woman patted his hand, "It's quite clear how much you love her. And it's beautiful."

Robert's stomach tightened at her words, his first instinct to slide away from the stranger, and end their conversation. But then he glanced back out past the hull, saw as they got closer and closer to their destination. He easily picked Cora out from the crowd, her graceful figure something so familiar to him already, that he barely need look and he could spot her. He knew her instantly. His heart knew even before his eyes had adjusted. It leapt, she was there, safe and waiting for him.

"Yes," Robert said softly, "yes I do."


	7. Chapter 6

Cora wasn't sure how many long seconds had passed in between her last inhalation, but as the pressure in her chest built uncomfortably, she remembered to breath. It always surprised her, how something as intangible as air be so different from place to place. She'd first noticed it stepping off the ship in England, how different the country tasted on her lips than New York, how strangely the scent tickled her nose. There was the usual choking stench of a city but then, underneath, a faint whiff of heather, and as she explored London, the ghostly scent of musty leather, like an ancient book being dislodged from the depths of a hidden library.

Alexandria was no different. The oxygen felt denser, moist instead of the crisp English ether she had so quickly become accustomed to. Frankincense and cinnamon mingled together as Cora breathed in, coating her tongue like a decadent dessert, leaving a nutty aftertaste. Immediately the thick heat, the onslaught of smells, made Cora hunger for water but she couldn't close her mouth, couldn't keep her head inside the carriage as it passed through the crowded, chaotic streets. She would gladly drink in all of this foreign place, gladly succumb to parchment to linger in this spot.

Along the road, children ran barefoot after one another, yelling in their high-pitched voices, words in their native tongue that Cora had no hope of deciphering. Women rushed to their destinations, shrouded in black from head to toe, only their eyes visible between the layers. They held the most fascination for Cora, as they moved in numbers, the fabric from their veils trailing behind them, a great giant dark wave that moved on the desert wind. Peppering the path they traveled, men shouted to the newcomers, holding up trinkets for sale, fruit that looked as exotic as anything Cora had ever seen, as though it had been plucked from the Garden of Eden.

The carriage jerked and bumped its way through the streets, and only after a particularly nasty buckle in the road, when she was thrown half into Robert's lap across from her, did Cora remember her husband's presence. He caught her effortlessly, as though waiting for some accident to befall them and Cora laughed at the stern settlement of Robert's features. He had been waspish since their separation on the ship, and even their safe delivery to Alexandria's shore did not restore his good mood.

Dark thoughts threatened to ground her, tempering the intoxicating effect Egypt was having on her. Thoughts that were never too far away and that all swirled around Robert and how things were between them. But then, like a gust of clarity carried on a sudden breeze, Cora recalled Robert's words from the night before. They may have been laced with drink, they may have been slurred out into the night when he thought she was sleeping, but they had been said nonetheless. He loved her.

And now that he had given voice to her greatest wish, hadn't she realized it for some time now? Her heart had been trying to make her head believe what it had known for months. All of Robert's small gestures: the lingering looks, the growing ease with which he spoke to her, the way he sought to touch her even outside of the bedroom, they had all taken on a quality in which, if she had read it in a novel, would have convinced her that the hero was indeed besotted with the heroine. But her heart had been stubborn, still looking for reasons to disbelieve, still poking at the wounds of their early days together. It wasn't that she hadn't wanted to believe, but that she had wanted it too much.

The truth of it made Cora softer, instantly softer and she was frightened by her own response. For if she thought she had loved Robert before, it was nothing compared to how she felt now that she knew his secret. Her heart needed him with every contraction of its chambers. Her beloved. Her dear, dear husband. Who loved her and whom she adored.

"Cora?" Robert's voice was laced with worry and Cora snapped her thoughts out from within her daydreams, realizing that she still sat half in his lap, half crouched on the floor of the jostling carriage.

"Are you hurt?" Robert demanded, gripping her tightly by the arms and helping her back up into her seat.

Cora shook her head, laughing, her face lighting up with embarrassment. "No, no. I'm perfectly fine. Just stunned."

"Yes," Robert agreed slowly. "This whole place has a sort of shocking effect."

Cora frowned at his response and covered his hand with her own. Robert stared down at their joined digits. "Do you truly hate it?" Cora asked softly.

Robert continued to blink at their hands, the hard edges of his tensed mouth relaxing. He looked up at her, his eyelids lowering and he shook his head. "No," Robert said, a warmth elongating the syllable. "No, of course not."

And though Cora was sure that it was a lie, a lie perpetuated for her benefit, Cora let him tell it, only smiling in return. She let go of his hand, instantly feeling a chill from the loss of him, and settled back into the hard bench of the coach. Inhaling as fully as her corset would allow, Cora blew out her breath and folded her hands on top of one another. She looked across to Robert to find him chewing at his bottom lip, studying her, his eyes shimmering in the shadows of the carriage. He seemed on the verge of saying something, his lips circling around the tip of a word before pressing together, the impulse leaving. He turned his mouth into a grin instead.

"What?" Cora laughed, though her brows dipped together.

Robert waved his hand. "Nothing." A pause, then. "You look lovely, did I tell you that today?"

Cora snorted happily. "No, but thank you."

"Travel suits you." Robert continued.

"I like seeing new places!" Cora exclaimed.

"The explorer's spirit!" Robert's grin faltered and the brief flicker of merriment in his eyes was extinguished. "It's a wonder you don't think me very dull."

Clearing his throat harshly, Robert turned his attention out the window, squinting hard at the passers-by, though Cora doubted he really saw any of it. It all became suddenly clear to her, all of Robert's hesitation the past year, all of the length he packed into the spaces between them. He had been just as terrified as she of rejection, just as untrusting of the overwhelming feelings bubbling under the surface.

"I don't." Cora said firmly. Robert's head whipped back in her direction. "You're the very opposite of dull."

The peaks of Robert's cheeks turned a high pink and some of the smile returned to his face as he jutted his chin toward the world outside of the coach.

"I think we are here."

* * *

The hotel porters unloaded their baggage in a silent frenzy, heaving case after case off of the coach and making a neat tower of it along the sidewalk. The masses of people, the gritty roads and static noise of Alexandria's port had given way to a more genteel landscape the deeper they penetrated the city. So much so that as they rounded the main thoroughfare and arrived in front of their hotel, Cora thought it much closer to the villages near Downton than she would have expected. Pretty women, corseted and laced into their finest Worth creations shuffled on the arms of their dapper looking men and finely polished carriages lined up in front of the hotels, ready to bring charges up and down the foreign streets.

Cora put a gloved hand up to the brim of her hat, holding it in place as she looked up behind them. The gold lettering spelling out _Grand Hotel Abbat_ hung above, fastened to the wrought iron atop the porch covered entrance. The limestone facade of the hotel, with it's wide, symmetrical window pairs and rectangular shape reminded her of something she might see on fifth avenue in New York. The bamboo window shades Cora spied through the dusty glass the only disparity she could see from the outside. The false familiarity assuaged some of Cora's increasing nervousness.

Robert, by contrast, had become more silent as they approached the hotel and Cora's own reticence was easily forgotten as she felt the rigid discomfort emanating from him. She wasn't sure what still bothered him, but Cora conceded that it most likely had to do with the prospect of spending untold amounts of time with her parents. She would have to make sure that they had plenty of opportunities to break out on their own adventures.

When all of their trunks had been unloaded and ushered under the awning of the hotel, Cora and Robert were left standing with one another, Mitchell and Jones following the porters to begin the process of unpacking. Cora shuffled a step closer to Robert as they both stared at their fellow travelers entering and exiting the bustling front door. The heat of the day had settled heavily on her and Cora riffled in her clutch, finding her fan and flicking it open with a twist of her wrist. Robert's eyes skittered to her side.

"Are you warm?" He asked before snorting at his own observation. "Of course you are! It must be cooler inside. Let's find our rooms."

Taking her by the elbow before she could reply, Cora let Robert lead her through the lobby. Palm trees and brightly colored mosaics decorated the concierge's desk, which filled the back wall of the entrance way. They passed a larger sitting area, plush sofas and chairs populating the alcove where a number of guests had found a place for relaxation and socializing. Voices competed with one another as chatter spilled out to where they walked and the hard intonations and clipped consonants of one voice in particular tugged at Cora's ear. Glancing over her shoulder, Cora spotted her mother's fiery curls, barely contained under her eschewed hat. Pulling from Robert's hold, Cora rushed in her direction.

It was only then that she realized, all this time, she'd never asked Robert who her parents were traveling with. That it was the Jansens made no large impact other than Cora thought them possibly the worst representation of her mother's friends. Robert would surely come to loathe their company as much as she did.

Cora could feel Robert's approach behind her as he tried to keep up, but she continued moving toward her parents until she was practically towering over them. Martha looked up first, and she sprung from her chair, her smile hesitant at first before blooming into a toothier display. Isadore, who had been explaining some piece of business to Martin Jansen, stopped speaking when he realized no one was paying any attention and he shifted in his seat, his head falling back as he took her in.

"Cora?" Isadore said her name as he shook his head, his eyes bulging wide in disbelief. "What on heaven's name are you doing here?"

"Isadore…" Martha laughed off her father's name as though teasingly admonishing a child, but Cora heard the undercurrent of tension. She looked back and forth between her parents in confusion.

"Martha," Isadore spoke in the low and even tone that usually sent Cora and Harold hiding as children. Her father hardly ever raised his voice, instead it fell deeper, the words becoming razor sharp. Cora shrunk back slightly, bumping into Robert behind her. "What is going on?"

For her part, Martha recovered quickly and raised her palms up, shrugging her shoulders. "The children are obviously on holiday." Martha floated over to them, all smiles and languid gestures. "It's so good to see you dear. And Robert! I hope your voyage was a pleasant one."

Cora let her mother bring her into her arms, automatically pecking her cheek in response, but her eyes stayed on her father. His face was quickly turning a speckled shade of red. Remembering that they were not alone, Isadore stood. He gripped the edge of his jacket and pulled at it savagely, a gesture Cora knew well. The pressure of held back tears built under the bridge of her nose. Robert's hand was at her elbow as Isadore slowly wove through the chairs to where they were. His forced smile was too much like a grimace and Cora glanced away as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She squeezed her eyes shut at the contact, and bowed her head as her father stiffly held his hand out to Robert, hiding the tear that escaped.

Martha moved into Cora's space. "We should let them get settled." Her mother gently extracted her from the middle of the gathering and turned her in the direction of the reception area.

"Why didn't Papa know we were coming?" Cora asked her mother.

Martha made a clucking noise in the back of her throat. "Oh my dear, he's just being Isadore! He's thrilled you are here!"

"Mother-".

"Robert," Martha raised her voice over Cora's as she looked back at her son in law. "You should get Cora up and change. We'll have tea in the courtyard at half past four and she looks peaked. A nice rest will do everyone good."

Martha flashed a wide grin at both of them before turning in a whirl of skirts and walking back to the others. Cora saw that her father had his eyes on them. His expression was restrained, unreadable and Cora felt the tears spring up again. Where was her papa, who would snatch her up in his long arms after a day's work, the stubble of his cheek brushing against hers as he kissed her in greeting? Had she outgrown his affection? Did her absence make him forget how he had loved her?

"Cora?" Robert asked carefully after the seconds of silence had stretched out. "Come, darling."

Cora nodded her head, smiling weakly up at Robert. His eyes caressed her face with concern and while Robert's care had her dizzy with happiness, her father's rebuff spoiled it. It didn't seem fair that she had to give one of them up to have the other, either her father's affection or Robert's. In that moment Cora felt a finite split from her former life. Cora Levinson had finally, irrevocably, taken her last breath. She was now, completely, the Viscountess Downton. Robert was her family and he would be all that she needed.


	8. Chapter 7

**AN: Thank you all for the extremely kind reviews! I hope you enjoy this next chapter!**

With the edge of his knife, Robert attempted to discreetly scrape off the cream sauce drowning his duck. Of course Martha Levinson would pick a French hotel, when Robert quickly learned from his chatty luggage attendant that most Englishmen stayed at L'Hotel du L'Orient. He feared his stomach wouldn't withstand the three days of rich food they'd be subjected to, but Robert supposed he should be grateful. At least the cuisine was recognizable. The same couldn't be said for politeness of conversation.

There was no shortage of caterwauling at the dinner table, and for that Robert had Georgia Jansen to thank. One hour in her company had convinced him she was possibly the most grating human being he had ever encountered. Poor Mr. Jansen appeared to be of the same opinion, the grimace chiseling his face growing deeper each time his wife opened her mouth. And open it she did. Robert guessed her first breath was taken only after the second course had been cleared.

What Robert couldn't quite work out, what remained a half-hidden mystery, like the plot of a novel he should know the climax too, was the role of Mr. Claire. He had accompanied the Jansen's and Levinson's on their trip, clearly an acquaintance, though his deeper friendship seemed entirely focused on Mrs. Jansen. Interspersed with her constant jabbering to the party, were more intimate asides to Joseph Claire, who sat to Mrs. Jansen's right, riveted to every word that fell from her wide mouth. The studying of the two became a welcome distraction for Robert, and he was almost sorry once Mrs. Jansen's energy for endless chatter finally stalled, leaving the rest of the party to fend for themselves.

In the vacuum left by Mrs. Jansen's silence, the tension between the Levinsons became uncomfortably tangible. Despite being invited to tea, Cora had declined, sending word to her parents that the journey had been especially fatiguing and she would see them at dinner. Robert assumed she had taken the time to rest, though when he had arrived at her door to escort her to the dining room, he couldn't help but notice her reddened eyes and lackluster enthusiasm. Aside from a small greeting as they entered the dining room, Cora had said very little, and the stiff embrace shared by father and daughter only exacerbated the beginnings of indigestion that had begun to twitch at Robert's gut.

In the moments during the conversation's lull, when the rest of his dining companions searched their plates with feigned interest or swilled down their wine at an alarming speed, Robert attempted to catch Cora's eye. Either too absorbed in her own thoughts to feel the pressure of his attention or unwilling to lift her head up, Cora continued to push the contents of her entree around the white china it rested on. Robert wished very badly that he and Cora were back on the ship, just the two of them. Reflecting on their sixteen day journey at sea, a tender warmth eased into the spaces left chilled by the events of the afternoon. Above all, Robert had enjoyed the time he and Cora had spent in each other's company. Compared to their short time in Egypt, the waters they had traveled seemed idyllic.

"I'm simply dying to hear how you are getting on!" Robert flinched, his insides cringing as Mrs. Jansen's noisome voice pierced the silence once again. Robert glanced at her to see she had eyes on Cora.

An awkward pause followed the woman's outburst before Martha nudged Cora's elbow. Cora looked up quickly, her eyes darting like a startled deer, until she realized Mrs. Jansen had been speaking to her. Robert could see her visibly shrink back. He placed his fork onto the plate and folded his hands together in his lap, nails digging into his flesh. Some part of him intuited that he should find an excuse to take Cora away from the disastrous meal, but no such reason presented itself.

"I'm sorry?" Cora responded finally, her voice quiet.

Mrs. Jansen's laugh came out more like a bark and Robert closed his eyes briefly. "I want to know how your new life is!"

A smile, small as it was, touched Cora's face for the first time as she quickly glanced across at him and a responding flutter tickled Robert's chest.

"I think I'm acclimating," Cora responded sweetly before taking a sip of her wine.

"She's doing splendid." Robert offered and Cora's eyes flickered at him again, some of their brilliance returning.

"See Martin!" Mrs. Jansen exclaimed, turning to her husband, who openly glared at his wife.

Mrs. Jansen leaned toward Cora, unphased by the ice contained in her husband's look. "When Catherine comes of age, I will be counting on you to introduce her to only the finest English gentlemen! I think she'll do much better over there than anything New York has to offer."

"We'll see about that," Mr. Jansen mumbled before gulping generously from his wine glass.

Robert's confusion was quickly dispelled as he recalled the shy young girl sitting with the adults at Cora and his arrival. She had favored Mr. Jansen's more delicate features but had her mother's rust-colored curls. The child couldn't be more than twelve years old.

"She's already the perfect little lady." Mrs. Jansen gushed. "And if I may say, she could easily catch a duke with all of the preparation we are doing."

"A duke?!" Mr Claire declared, his bobbing eyebrows and dramatic emphasis on the title earning him foul looks from the other two men at their table. Yes, it was clear he was not there by the invitation of Isadore or Martin.

"I'm sure Cora would be happy to help." Martha said. "Won't you dear?"

Cora looked from her mother to Mrs. Jansen. "Yes, yes...of course, if Catherine-".

"Now if only your mother had applied the rigorous regimen Catherine is going through to you!" Mrs. Jansen interrupted. "Perhaps the Levinson's would be boasting a duchess in the family! Instead of...what is that you're called, dear?"

Robert watched Cora's mouth open and close, the shock of the woman's boldness no doubt leaving her as speechless as it left him infuriated.

"Viscountess," Robert said through gritted teeth. "She is the Viscountess Downton."

"Ahh," Mrs. Jansen replied, her eyes bulging and Robert breathed in steadily through his nostrils, trying to temper the boiling response he wished to hurl at the woman's smug face.

"I'm in need of a cigar," Isadore broke the stoic muteness he had adopted for the evening and stood abruptly, dropping his napkin onto the table "Jansen?"

Mr. Jansen nodded eagerly, the most animation Robert had yet to see from him, and practically skipped up from his seat. The two men turned, quickly looking to leave their company.

"Isadore!" Martha hissed through a tight smile, her eyes bouncing in Robert's direction.

His father in law slowly looked him over, his eyes so shockingly similar to Cora's that Robert had to remember not to gaze into them as intensely as he would his wife's. Isadore was indeed the mold Cora seemed to be fleshed out from. Same tall and reedy stature, same coloring, Cora was her father through and through. It was disconcerting to see her features arranged in this stranger's hostile face.

Isadore sighed. "Well LORD Downton, will you join us?"

Robert opened his mouth to amend Isadore, to hastily tell him there was no need for such formalities among family, until he clamped his lips shut at Cora's horrified look. Isadore was mocking him, his wife's father, the dying man he'd brought Cora halfway around the world to see, was making fun of him. In other circumstances Isadore's treatment would be galling, but it only left Robert feeling sorry. It's what propelled him to accept Isadore's invitation, grudgingly given as it was, putting aside his own discomfort to help initiate some friendly feelings between the two of them.

Giving Cora a reassuring nod, Robert rose from his seat and followed the back of the two men, who already had left the dining hall and had disappeared down a short corridor. Behind him he could hear Mr. Claire's overzealous promise.

"I'll keep an eye on the women folk."

The room Robert found himself in was mostly empty, only a handful of patrons smoking and drinking whiskey. They settled down at a table in the corner, and almost immediately, a waiter appeared, taking their drink orders. Once the tiny Egyptian had left, Robert found himself the subject of the older men's scrutiny. Isadore and Mr. Jansen carefully produced their cigars and trimmed the ends neatly, almost in tandem. All the while the pair of eyes followed him over the pluming flame of the matches they held up, puffing methodically until they snuffed the flints out. Robert fumbled his own smoking paraphernalia from his pocket.

The whiskeys arrived and still none of them had spoken. Robert took up his glass quickly. The amber liquid lit a fire down his esophagus and he suppressed the responding cough that threatened to burst forth. Unwilling to show Isadore and Mr. Jansen a weakness, Robert cleared his throat behind his raised hand. The two men turned away from him and began to talk to each other, something about stocks and New York business dealings that Robert had no interest in. He settled into a pattern of sipping and smoking, letting his mind ferment in his own thoughts, until Robert was not aware of the passage of time.

"I never realized the English were so quiet!" Mr. Jansen hiccuped.

Robert shook himself out of his own musings and glanced at the man, noting the glazed quality of his eyes, the lopsided grin he'd adopted. Looking to the table, Robert saw a number of empty glasses and wondered just how long they had been away from the women. He turned, eyeing the door to the room, wondering if Cora and the rest would join them, or if there was a woman's drawing room to meet her in. He was about to ask his companions when his father-in-law drew in a harsh breath. Robert looked back in time to see Isadore clutching his side. When he noticed Robert watching him, Isadore swallowed down whatever pain had plagued him and lifted his chin.

"It seems odd, you and Cora showing up here." Isadore said, the strain in his voice still evident.

The whiskey in Robert's belly began to turn sour as he struggled with words to explain their presence. "Well, Cora received a letter from Martha detailing your trip and so…".

Isadore narrowed his eyes until they were like twin half moons, only a shock of blue peering out. "Did Martha know you were coming?"

"Um…" Robert scanned the room, hoping that somehow Cora would appear.

"That's an awfully decent gesture!" Mr. Jansen slurred, clapping Robert on the shoulder. "Levi, he's not so bad!"

"Yes," Isadore replied slowly, "not so bad if you overlook stealing my daughter. And my money."

"Now wait just a-". Robert began, shifting in his seat. His words were cut off as he saw her round the corner into the room. Like the climactic scene in a penny dreadful, Cora came in unaware, her mother close behind. Her smile lit the way as her eyes found his. Robert stopped talking, concentrating on the look he was giving her in return, the one that screamed for her to turn back.

"Do not make any pretenses. Not to my face." Isadore growled. Robert's breath quickened as Cora advanced towards them.

"Aww, Levi," Mr. Jansen said. "Give the boy a break. He brought her all the way-."

"With my money!" Isadore spat and Cora stopped in her tracks. Robert shook his head but she remained rooted to the spot, just as Isadore gripped the arms of his chair.

"Please," Robert pleaded, holding up a hand but Isadore ignored him.

"I can see what is going on here" Isadore said. "Almost a year to the day that you married Cora and what have you to show for it?"

"Isadore," Martha cautioned from behind, but her husband did not hear her.

"There isn't even a child!" Isadore's voice never rose above a hiss, but it rang in Robert's ears like a siren.

Out of his chair in an instant, Robert stepped toward Cora. Her hand was over her mouth and she shook her head, eyes wide.

"Cora…" Robert said softly and Isadore whipped around, confronted with the pale visage of his daughter.

Isadore stood quickly. "My dear…".

The beginnings of a sob broke through the barrier of Cora's hand before she stifled it and whirled around, rushing from the room. All of the discomfort, all of the swelling anger that Robert had kept in check all evening came bubbling up and Robert clenched his fists at his side.

"How could you be so cruel?" Robert asked quietly, though every nerve in his body raged. "YOU profess to love Cora and then you say something so heartless!"

"He didn't know, Robert." Martha said gently, coming to her husband's side.

Isadore's look of disdain changed to one of confusion and he looked quickly down to Martha. "What are you talking about? What didn't I know?"

Martha closed her eyes and sighed, her shoulders falling forward. "Cora was pregnant, Isadore."

"What?" There was the tiniest of cracks in Isadore's voice and he stared hard at Martha, waiting for her to answer. When she turned away, Isadore's broken look focused on Robert. "That cannot be."

Robert unclenched his fists, only to ball them up again. "It was lost."

Isadore's features crumpled slightly, falling into the deep grooves of his thin face, his attention once again on his wife. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Martha placed a hand on his arm. "I didn't want to upset you. She's very young. These things happen."

Robert's grasp on civility was slipping. Before he could say anything that would strain relations more than they were, he ducked away from the group, mumbling a curt goodnight.

* * *

Robert had gone straight to Cora's room after leaving her parents, but Cora had refused to answer his persistent knocks. Retreating to his own room, he waited for Jones. The valet came quickly and did his job efficiently, quiet save for a few necessary murmurs and for that, Robert was thankful. He wanted the silence, though it only helped churn up what had happened, agitating the helplessness he had begun to feel.

"Will there be anything else, milord?"

Robert smoothed a palm over the silk of his night shirt and shook his head, sliding his feet into his slippers. Jones nodded wordlessly and turned down the gaslit sconce near the door before exiting. Looking around the room, Robert couldn't remember ever feeling more out of place. From the oddity of the continent he found himself on, to his misplacement among the Americans, there seemed no familiar footing to land on.

Except Cora. They were becoming more accustomed to each other every day, so much so, that Robert realized he needed to see her. He couldn't let her alone after such harsh remarks.

Restoring his courage, and determining he wouldn't leave until he at least saw her face, Robert opened the door from his room and stepped out into the narrow hallway. Her room number stared back at him, just a few short steps away, though it felt much farther. Instantly, loneliness took a hold of him. He didn't want to be alone. As much as he wanted to make sure Cora was alright, he didn't want to be without her.

With a boldness strengthened by his revelation, Robert struck the door separating them with his knuckles, not with a force that would startle her but with enough determination that Cora would know he meant to see her. The moments that followed were still, noiseless. Placing an ear to the wood, Robert could not detect any sound and his resolve wavered. If Cora truly wanted to be alone, he couldn't force her to see him.

With shoulders slumped, Robert placed his palm on the wood and then stepped away. The rattle of a chain and the slide of the lock disengaging stopped him, and Robert jerked around in time to see the door yawn open slowly, revealing Cora in its frame. Mitchell had already been in, for Cora's hair was down, curls cascading from the end of her braid and spilling over her shoulder. Her hands gripped the edges of her dressing gown, pulling them together at her chest. There was no evidence of tears, but her eyes seemed to float in a well of barely suppressed sadness.

His first thought was that he should like to hold her. But for all of their growing easiness around each other, it just wasn't who they were. Perhaps one day. Robert did hope for it, but not now. Instead, Robert extended his hand in the direction of her suite.

"May I?" Robert asked tentatively and he let out a breath when Cora nodded in the affirmative.

He went further into the room. It, like the rest of the hotel, was a little too flamboyantly decorated for his tastes. In contrast to the simplicity of Cora's cream colored housecoat, the the unadorned freshness of her beauty, the Louis XVI ornamentation was too much and Robert averted his eyes from all of the frilly, velvety furnishings and focused on Cora. She had walked passed him after he had entered and now stood in front of her vanity. Absently, she picked up her brush, running the hard teeth through the ringlets left unbraided.

Robert opened his mouth, intending to say something, though what he still hadn't quite worked out in his mind, but Cora chose that moment to place her brush back down and angle her chin over her shoulder. He studied her profile as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

"I should hate to refuse you," Cora's words were faint and Robert leaned forward to catch them all. "But I'm rather exhausted. I'm sorry."

"What?" Robert replied in puzzled response.

Cora faced him more fully and tucked her arms around herself. "I know it isn't...right for a wife to...rebuff a husband's…".

"You think I wish to…?" Robert floundered for the word and was instantly relieved when Cora nodded slowly.

"No," Robert said gently, clasping his hands behind his back. "I didn't come for….that." He turned and glanced at the door before facing Cora again. "But I don't care for you being so far away."

Cora chuckled. "I'm only across the hall."

Robert's mouth twisted into a scowl. "That is far enough, judging from some of the men I saw on the dock. It makes me uneasy. Do you think…?"

It was Robert's turn to look away, letting his eyes dance toward the bed. When Cora remained quiet he peered over to her hesitantly. She blinked at him, her mouth relaxing into a tentative smile.

"Of course," Cora replied, walking to the side of the bed she was closest too.

Satisfied, Robert untied the strings of his house coat and tossed it over a chair, toeing off his slippers and practically hopped to the right side of the bed. Folding down the blankets, he slid in, waiting as Cora did the same. In tandem, they lowered the lights on the nighttables and then settled into the darkness. Robert could feel Cora breathing beside him, her warm toe skimming over his ankle.

"Sorry," she whispered at the contact.

Robert smiled, though she wouldn't be able to see. He took in a breath, intending to mention Isadore's hurtful words but then stifled the impulse. It was too nice, laying there by one another, to dampen the mood. As his eyelids grew heavier, a feeling settled over Robert, warming him. Perhaps it wasn't just one feeling, but a whole patchwork of them, like a woven quilt. Lying next to her was almost as gratifying as their lovemaking and Robert doubted he would ever willing sleep alone again.


End file.
